


Mr. Tambourine Man

by notjustmom



Series: Everybody Hurts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Past Drug Use, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me<br/>I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to<br/>Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me<br/>In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Tambourine Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BakerKeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerKeen/gifts).



> this takes place in the first weeks of Sherlock's return after the Fall.

It was one of those nights  
when he couldn't sleep,  
was afraid to sleep, and  
John was at one of those blasted  
conferences for two more days.  
He needed something, anything  
just to-  
He wondered if Bob was still on her  
corner, she was always there  
back in the day, sometimes gave him  
freebies when he couldn't pay-  
It was one in the morning, just a  
few more hours, if he could wait  
til the sun-  
He pulled on a pair of grubby trousers,  
and threw on one of his coats he wore  
when he visited his Homeless Network, over  
one of John's jumpers, the one he had taken  
with him when he 'left'  
He walked for what seemed like hours  
but was only 15 minutes, he disappeared  
into those side streets that he used to  
know so well, before John.  
John. Damn. What am I-  
"Hullo, Sherl-thought you'd given up  
the old life, luv, what brings you here,  
sweetie?"  
"Bob! Thank god! Wasn't sure if you'd  
still be here."  
"Where else would I be, luv? But  
you don't belong here anymore, do you?"  
"I can't think anymore, can't sleep,  
just need..."  
"Come on in, your room is still  
here, no one's using it right now, but I'm  
not selling you anything, Sherl."  
"Bob-"  
"Your eyes are clean, sweet, just tired  
and hurt, but you need to rest, luv. Go ahead,  
you are safe here."  
Sherlock found his corner where he  
spent much of his twenties, and closed his eyes  
as he felt Bob comb through his hair  
fell fast asleep.  
The next morning, Bob was gone,  
but she'd left Sherlock an apple  
and a note:

"You're a good kid, luv, go home."

Sherlock took out his wallet and left  
fifty pounds in Bob's 'safe', a strongbox  
that never had a lock, and polished  
the apple. He was never sure where  
Bob got them, but they were always  
the best apples he ever ate.  
He took a breath, rubbed his eyes  
and made his way home in the  
mid-June sunlight.


End file.
